


All in little pieces now

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Bookstores, Daisy is still a superhero, F/M, Phil has a secret, Skoulsonfest, a big one, based roughly on a tumblr prompt, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7561528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It couldn’t actually be her, could it? He racked his brain trying to think where the most recent sighting was. Ohio? Was that too out of the way? Shelving the book, maybe in the right place, he snuck one last look at the woman at the other end of the aisle.<br/>The hoodie, the hair, the sunglasses peeking out of her pocket…<br/>It was her.<br/>It was Quake.<br/>Just a week after he’d been fired, too</p><p>SkoulsonFest2k16 Redux--Day 5: AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	All in little pieces now

Trailing his eyes over the contents of the bookshelves, Phil Coulson turned down another aisle in the store. Looking at the other occupant, he stopped in his tracks. _No way_.

Trying not to look conspicuous he squinted at a nearby book, not really reading the title before picking it up. His mind was racing.

It couldn’t actually be _her,_ could it? He racked his brain trying to think where the most recent sighting was. Ohio? Was that too out of the way? Shelving the book, maybe in the right place, he snuck one last look at the woman at the other end of the aisle.

The hoodie, the hair, the sunglasses peeking out of her pocket…

Turning his back, Phil walked to a different section.

 _It’s her_.

It was, he couldn’t believe it. What should he do? A few aisles over, he stared at the wall of books, feeling a bit like the world had gone silent around him.

It was _Quake._   _Here_.

Just a week after he’d been fired, too. Fidgeting, wondering if she was already gone, he tried to guess the odds that a photo or a quote would be enough to get him his job back, dispel the notion that he was on a wild goose chase with this.

Not a chance. If they even decided to publish it at all it’d be pushed back with the odder Op Eds, next to the UFO lady and the guy complaining about local gardening standards. He wanted more than that, for himself and for her.

She’d been on the run from the authorities for almost a year, essentially a vigilante (although the media always happened to gloss over those details,) so it wasn’t as if he could just walk up to her either. She’d know she was spotted in a second probably, she was good.

Why was she _here_ though? Hiding out? Or was there a crime in progress he wasn’t even aware of? Were they in danger?

“Hey,” a voice said, making him jump. For a moment he wondered if it was her, which would be ridiculous. He turned. It was her.

“Uh, hi?” Phil said dropping the book he was holding. He just kind of stared at it, until she reached down and picked it up. She gave him a funny look, amused, before looking at the title.

“ _The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding,_ ” she read, flipping through the pages before closing it and handing it back. “For your wife?” Phil stared at her, taking the book back and looking at it. Apparently he’d wandered into the Health section. And was he being crazy, or did she sound...disappointed?

“No, no,” he said, snapping out of it, realizing he had basically just been gaping at this woman. How could he not though? This was Quake, right in front of him. The woman who brought down Hydra, decimated their accounts (that they insisted didn’t exist,) the one who saved the occupants of an entire apartment complex before it collapsed.

She was younger than he thought. Maybe.

“Your...girlfriend? Sister? Secret Santa?” Her voice was warm and kind of low, it almost sounded intimate. Being between the bookshelves didn’t help. He was a big fan of books.

“No, I just...I seem to be in the wrong place,” he said, shrugging putting the book down. Miraculously she didn’t question that, just nodding and making a little ‘hmm’ noise before tilting her head.

“Are you from around here?” She asked, and Phil was worried she’d noticed him staring at her before. That she knew he knew. But would she linger?”

“Yeah, I’m just a couple blocks over,” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Are you?” He asked, despite knowing the answer.

“No, I’m just in town for a couple days. Maybe less,” she said. She shrugged. “Maybe more.” Quake held out her hand. “Daisy,” she said.

 _That can’t be real._ It had to be an alias, right?

Quake, the woman who brought down buildings and threw cars (only when necessary) was named _Daisy?_

It was a cute name, and she was a cute girl. But he wouldn't have guessed it. He kind of liked that.

“Phil,” he said, reaching out and shaking her hand. It was firm.

Vaguely Phil thought about all the things that hand was capable of. She could probably crush his right now if she wanted. But she wouldn’t. The same blind faith that got him fired, that told him there was more to this story, told him that she wasn’t going to hurt him.

She seemed to notice him staring at their joined hands, because she actually blushed. Was she embarrassed because he knew who she was?

“Look I’m really bad at this but do you want to grab a drink?” She asked, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear briefly before it fell into her face again. “A coffee, food, whatever. No pressure.”

“Sure,” Phil said, too quickly. “Wait why?” He asked, too suspiciously.

Daisy raised her eyebrows, looking at him like he was the strangest thing she’d ever seen. “Beeecause I’ve been checking you out for like ten minutes and I feel like you might have been doing the same?”

She was half right. _Wait she was checking me out?_ She didn’t know he was onto her. Or she did and it didn’t bother her. _But she did say ‘checking me out,’ right?_

That seemed...odd.

“Okay, well it seems like I totally mis-read the situation here, so I’m just going to--” she gestured behind her to the door and mouthed the word ‘go.’

“Wait,” Phil said, “I’d love to go with you. I just thought, you’re very…” he gestured to her face, mostly. It was, _very._ Security cameras and paparazzi photos did not do her justice.

Her lips quirked into a smile. “Right back at ya,” she said. Phil smiled awkwardly, and gestured toward the door.

“Do you want to go now?”

Daisy nodded and they turned to leave. “Oh, wait,” she said, grabbing the book from earlier. “Did you want to pay for this? No? You sure?” Phil scoffed and she grinned, putting it back on the shelf and grabbing his arm. “So, what do you like around here?”

Phil began to panic a bit. Where was he supposed to take a superhero for lunch?

***

It wasn’t until they reached his apartment door that Phil realized there was a problem. Lunch had gone well, he knew of this cute little cafe nearby with dim lighting and a minimal lunch crowd, so if her identity was a concern she wouldn’t have to worry.

But would others recognize her like this?

She had to know at this point he knew who she was, he’d been so awkward when they met. But maybe she appreciated that he didn’t ask about it. After all, there were so many other things to talk about, he soon found out. Her interest in politics (no wonder, considering, but her passion for activism was founded long before that, apparently,) the different cities she’d lived in around the world (again, not a surprise but he was glad she got to see the world, not just dart around it in hiding.)

And he seemed to interest her, enough to ask about his family, his job (or lack thereof,) why he lived in the area. He interested her enough for her to reach across the small table to wipe something from the side of his mouth before leaning over and kissing him. Right there, in public.

But after talking with her, it wasn’t as much about him being kissed by Quake the superhero. He was being kissed by Daisy, the funny, beautiful, friendly, passionate young woman who, okay, also happened to be a superhero.

Which was the problem.

“We can’t go in here,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders as she pushed him against his front door. Daisy kissed him again, nipping at his lip a little before looking at him, confused.

“We can’t? I thought you said--”

“No, yes, I-- yes, to that,” he said quickly, not wanting her to think he was turning her down after telling her that yes, she could come over if that’s what she wanted to do. “It’s just...a mess in there,” he said, coming up with an excuse on the spot.

Daisy rolled her eyes. “Phil, I lived out of my van driving across the country, I can live with a little clutter,” she said, reaching down and--

 _Oh-_ kay he needed another explanation. Or to just be honest about the whole thing. Or maybe he could say he was being fumigated, or oops they were at the wrong apartment but there was a hotel close by if she wanted to just do that.

A familiar clicking noise got him out of his own head, and he realized she’d stolen his keys and was now opening his door. “Daisy,” he objected, stumbling a bit as the door he’d been resting his weight on opened. She took the opportunity to sneak by him, smiling good naturedly.

“What?” She asked, stepping into the living room “did you forget to put away your--" She faltered."...Shrine? To me?” Daisy stopped in her tracks, staring at the board of news clippings, maps, photos and notes on his wall. The one his (former) co-workers had dubbed his “Quakespiracy board.” (For writers they weren’t very creative with that.)

“It’s not a shrine, really,” he explained, hanging back as Daisy got a closer look. “You know how I used to be a journalist, well, this was my big break. That actually ended up ruining my career.” He said it lightly, trying to bring some humor to the incredibly awkward (and probably creepy) situation.

“It _was_ a story, _was,_ ” he added, pulling at the back of his shirt collar. Was it warm in here? “I was talking with you just, because of you, not because of this.”

Finally turning back around, Daisy had a seriously strong poker face. “You knew who I was?” She asked, only the slightest bit of surprise giving her away.

“I thought you knew I knew,” he admitted, feeling a bit silly now. He should have said _something._ “I just thought you didn’t want to talk about it.”

Surprisingly she laughed. “You really are a shitty journalist, aren’t you?”

“That’s what they tell me,” he said, smiling. Looking at the wall, he felt embarrassed again. “I’m sorry, I should have said something.”

Daisy shrugged, crossing her arms and turning back to the board. “All of this is good,” she said, sounding surprised. “No ‘Quake terrorizes small town,’ or ‘property damage exceeds 12 billion dollars’ or whatever.”

“You’re doing good work,” Phil said, looking over the clippings. Having met her, he had no doubts that she was aiming to help people with the gift she had. “I thought more people should know that. But unfortunately they don’t think this is enough around here, and it doesn’t have the flashy scary spin they’re looking for.”

“Sorry I got you fired, kind of,” she said, joking but also looking genuinely concerned. Phil waved it off, and Daisy got a curious look on her face. “Have you shopped the idea around at all?”

Phil shook his head. “Not yet, I’m sort of soured on the whole business right now. And if this wasn’t enough for the place I’ve been for years, I don’t think anyone else is looking to buy.”

Daisy tilted her head, a small smile forming on her face. “What if you sweetened the pot?” She asked. Phil wasn’t following. “Exclusives. Handwritten notes, documents, first hand accounts, up close and personal shots.” She raised an eyebrow. “Well, not too personal.”

“Daisy, you don’t have to be a story for my sake, I don’t want to hurt what you’re doing,” he said, sitting down on the couch across from the board.

“That’s just it, you’ll be helping,” she said, sitting down next to him. “Showing what good I’m trying to do, tell people who really needs help right now, get people talking about it.” She reached over, covering his hand with hers. “Show them I’m one of the good guys,” she said quietly.

Phil nodded, feeling excited about the idea already. What angles to cover, the new interviews he’d be able to get with her sources. Looking down at their hands, he paused. “If we’re working together on this, it might not be a good idea for us to…” He squeezed her hand lightly.

Daisy frowned. “I mean, we can just leave that part out, right?” She asked. Treating his caution like a challenge, Daisy swung a leg over his and straddled his thighs.

“I feel like there might be ethical concerns,” Phil said, his voice getting higher as Daisy got closer.

“I think there are bigger things for people to worry about,” Daisy said, shifting on his lap as if for emphasis. “No one needs to know about this part. Or the next couple parts.”

_Next couple?_

“I guess you’re right,” Phil said, and Daisy nodded, so close her hair tickled his nose with the gesture. Leaning in next to his ear, she whispered and Phil wondered if the chills were from her using her powers in some way or just who she was.

“I’m right a lot.”

He would try to keep that off the record. 

***

The next morning, Phil woke up in bed, warm and sleepy and...alone. He sat up, padding out to the living room. Daisy wasn’t there, or in the kitchen, or in the bathroom. Trying not to lose hope too quickly, he thought up different explanations. Then, something caught his eye. Anyone else might have missed it, but he knew the board and its contents by heart.

Pinned in the corner was a piece of paper with a note scrawled on it. Plucking the paper from the board, he read its contents.  

_‘You can include this in your story:_

_Quake left the apartment at 8:30 am to get coffee._

_She was spotted in a local coffee shop wearing what appeared to be black leggings and a ‘Manitowoc Moose’ tee ball shirt belonging to resident Phil Coulson. Among her many good deeds of the day, she purchased for Mr. Coulson a coffee and selection of pastries at one of the overpriced cafes on his street. When asked, she expressed hope that Mr. Coulson would find a way to thank her for this selfless deed when she returned. ;)_

_(Okay maybe not the winky face.)_

Coulson smiled, pinning the paper back where it had been.

He might need to get a separate (private) board.

 


End file.
